


Angel Feathers

by Eff_Dragonkiller



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Clary Fray is not nice, Feather Plucking, His Feathers His Choice, M/M, Permanent Eye Injury, Ragnor Fell Lives, Violence, Wings, body autonomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24323971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eff_Dragonkiller/pseuds/Eff_Dragonkiller
Summary: Magnus ran his finger down the list of ingredients checking that they had everything needed for the antidote. Manticore horn--check. Newt's eye, Star's tear, Tongue of the devil--check, check, check. An Angel's feather--not check. Not check at all.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 65
Kudos: 553
Collections: Wingo Summer





	Angel Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to AceOnIce and ToTheStarsWriting for the Beta read, and lawsofchaos for the suggested ending AND the help working out tags. Tags are the devil. 
> 
> This is part of the Malec Discord Server's Summer of Wingo event, and the prompt was Plucking. (Also fills for Grooming/Preening, Wing-friendly infrastructure, and Wing Jewelry; but I wrote it to fill Plucking.)

Magnus ran his finger down the list of ingredients checking that they had everything needed for the antidote. Manticore horn--check. Newt's eye, Star's tear, tongue of the devil--check, check, check. An Angel's feather--not check. Not check at all.

"Fuck." Magnus muttered, staring at the page.

"We're missing something?" Clary's head jerked up, but Magnus was glaring at Ragnor.

"Did you even check the antidote's ingredients Ragnor?" He shoved the book under his friend's nose. "An Angel's feather? Just where are we supposed to get one of those?" 

Ragnor frowned, "It's not a euphemism for that green moss that glows in the dark?"

Magnus shook his head, "That's Angel's fur, you twit!"

Ragnor scowled back at him, "Well, I'm sorry! We're not all specialists in medieval horticulture."

"It's not like you're not old enough to remember!"

"I've lived a long time! That's a lot to remember!"

"Well, maybe if you-"

"Alright, enough!" Clary shouted, "You're saying we have the book with the antidote and we're still no closer to waking my mom?"

"Maybe." Magnus thumbed through the Book of White. "We have the directions, which at this point, is literally half the battle. But since we don't have an Angel feather we're going to need some time to come up with an alternative, work through the alterations, and consider the risks." He sighed, "It certainly won't be a short project."

"I might have one." She bit her lip, "but I don't know."

Magnus wasn’t even ashamed of how he stared. Angel feathers were not common black candles, or even rare glow-in-the-dark moss. It was unheard of for a warlock to ever get their hands on any. How on earth could Clary Fray have gotten an Angel's feather, and have it right when they needed it? The odds were astronomical.

"It's probably not," Ragnor cautioned, rubbing his fingers like they itched, "but we won't know if we don't see it."

Reaching into her jacket, the red-head proffered the pure white feather. It was long, almost six inches, and she hesitated in handing it over. The feather oozed power even with crumpled edges and Magnus found himself gently straightening the barbs so that it laid flat in his palm. 

“Sorry, it barely fit in the pocket,” the young woman said with a blush, “but I don’t like being without it. It’s the only real reason I think happy thoughts anymore. It’s gotten me through a lot recently.” She shrugged, “Just makes me believe that anything is possible. I like to keep it as close as possible.”

“We’d have to use it for your mother,” Ragnor frowned, “if this is an Angel feather, we wouldn’t be able to give it back.”

“I know,” Clary nodded with a determined glint in her eye, “but she’s my mother; I’ll do anything to get her back.” 

"Where did you get this?" Magnus asked, summoning a handkerchief and carefully bundling the feather.

Ragnor frowned, "Was it Jocelyn’s?"

"No, I found it in the Institute." Clary settled her hands on her hips and looked about three seconds from stomping her foot., "It was just lying around like trash! Can you believe that?!"

Both warlocks froze. Magnus cradled the feather, no longer comfortable he should be touching it, and just as uncomfortable with the idea of putting it down. Ragnor had turned a little green and it wasn't his natural color coming through, either.

"You...found it?" Ragnor repeated.

"Yeah," Clary frowned, "You think it's bad? Not a real Angel feather?"

"No, it's real." Magnus hesitated, "But items of power, like feathers, are tricky. Unwillingly given and they can poison a spell or potion, willingly given and they're very powerful boons. But neither, and the feather could do nothing. Or everything.."

"It might not be powerful enough," Ragnor clarified for the confused girl, “Or it might be too powerful.”

"But not something I'm willing to do without finding out who it belongs to." Magnus said firmly. Carefully, he tucked the handkerchief bundle into his pocket, ignoring the way Clary clearly wanted the feather back if they weren't going to use it. "We'll have to talk to an expert then." He smiled brightly, "and I know just the man."

-

Magnus cautiously knocked on Alec's office door. "Alec, do you have time to chat?"

His love interest was slumped against the desk, head propped up on his fist, dark rings under his eyes. But the smile he offered, no matter how small, was still just as genuine. "Please tell me you're here to say that Jocelyn is awake and is taking control of her daughter."

"Afraid not, sweetheart." Magnus shook his head, "The antidote Ragnor had written down had a mistranslated ingredient. Something very, very rare."

"Oh Angel, please don't tell me I'm going to be stuck with her forever." Alec protested.

"It depends on what you can tell me about this," Magnus said, offering the feather to Alec.

The warlock knew immediately he'd made the right choice when Alec froze like he'd been spelled and stared at the feather in shock and dismay. Magnus scooted closer.

"Where did you get this?"

"Biscuit claims she found it on the floor here at the Institute." Magnus bit his lip. "I won't ask whose it is. That knowledge is dangerous, I know. I completely understand. But an Angel's feather is the last ingredient in the antidote for Jocelyn's condition." Magnus shrugged, "Perhaps you could speak with this person and ask if they would be willing to bargain for us to have a willingly given feather."

"Do you know the omerta spell?" Alec asked abruptly, "The one that keeps secrets?"

"Yes, of course." Magnus hadn't had very much call to use it, but it was a simple enough spell.

"You would have to use it. You and Clary."

Magnus bit his lip, "And Ragnor? He knows that someone in the Institute has Angel wings. Do you think this person would be willing to include him?"

Alec groaned, "'Curiouser than a pack of cats, warlocks are.'"

Magnus smiled, pleasantly startled. "What's that from?"

"A Nephilim children's book," Alec admitted, "It's called 'And Henry with the wings'. You'd like it. It's pretty odd for Nephilim literature. Henry gets into all sorts of trouble with his friend Aurora, the warlock with pink skin. It's great."

Magnus raised a brow, "New?"

Alec blinked, "Oh, no. It's based on the life of Henry Greywater and his wife Aurora Grace."

Magnus huffed, "You need to find me a copy, pronto. I need to read this fluff."

Alec blushed, "I have the set?"

"I'll have to borrow them." Magnus laughed a little, "but back to the feather, do you think...?"

"I'll, uh, have to talk to them," Alec said, running a hand through his hair. "But maybe. We'll see. It’ll just be you and Fray, though."

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Magnus nodded, "Do you want me to leave this with you?"

"Yeah, I'll make sure it gets where it needs to go."

Alec turned his cheek so that his boyfriend could give him a chaste kiss goodbye.

"Just your cheek, Alec?" Magnus pressed a hand to his chest and pouted, "I feel slighted."

"You know how we get," Alec smirked, ignoring the blush he couldn't help, "I kiss you the way I want we won't be leaving this office."

Magnus inched a little closer, "And if I say I wouldn't mind?"

"I would!" Alec laughed and scooted his chair away from his boyfriend, "Get out so I can get back to work and hopefully get you an answer for your… ingredient."

"I guess so," Magnus said, slowly moving back towards the door, "but only because the faster I leave the faster I get to see you again."

"Just so," Alec nodded, biting back the ridiculous smile he wanted to give his boyfriend as the Warlock waited until the last minute to look away. 

When the door finally closed behind Magnus, and Alec was certain his boyfriend wasn't going to pop his head back in the office for one last air kiss, he shuddered out a tight breath and pulled the carefully wrapped bundle closer.

Alec didn't know he could love Magnus more than he already did, but his heart was bursting with emotion that this warlock. Magnus had admitted that he'd seen many of his friends hunted for their marks and that he would show so much compassion toward a Nephilim's feather, towards  _ his _ feather, made Alec fall in love all over again.

There was no doubt that the feather Clary had found was his. There were a few other winged folk in the Institute, perhaps five at most, but the way the magic sang under his fingers, Alec knew this feather was his. And it made sense, the last time he'd had a chance to groom his wings had been just before Jace dragged Clary into their lives. Now, it was just a matter of deciding how to handle it.

It would be easy to hide that it was his feather. To act as go-between as though for another of the folk. Neither Clary nor Magnus would ever have to know about his wings. On a visceral level, that was what Alec wanted. He wanted to be safely bundled up in anonymity, where no one knew he had wings.

Except it would be too easy for this secrecy to turn from safety to betrayal or even a handicap. Better that someone- better that the High Warlock, better that  _ his boyfriend- _ know now than to find out when Alec laid broken on asphalt, or tortured in a dungeon controlled by the Circle.

It was a distinctly uncomfortable idea. As a captive of Valentine, Alec couldn't imagine that he'd be able to hide his wings for long, and then it wouldn't matter who knew and who didn't. Because he would live the very nightmare he'd hidden them for, feathers plucked for pleasure or magic, the slow painful drag of his power through feathers he couldn’t control until there wasn’t anything Alec had left to fight with. 

Alec took a deep breath, willing the tight feeling in his chest to settle down. It was clear then what the best move was. Helping Clary release Jocelyn from her own stupid choice would mean not only that Clary would no longer be his problem, but it might also get them one step closer to finding Valentine and stopping the Circle.

So, it was in Alec's own best interest to agree to give a feather to Clary. Especially because Jace had already given this girl his heart, and Alec’s continued animosity with Clary was stressing his relationship with his parabatai. Giving this information to Clary would be like calling a truce, but that didn't mean that Alec wouldn't ask Magnus to cast the Omerta spell.

Clary was as much of a biscuit as Magnus always said, she'd crumble under the pressure of someone out to get Angel feathers.

-

"This is your lucky day, Biscuit!" Magnus said, clapping as he entered the infirmary. "I heard back from our source about the Angel feather and they are willing to come to an agreement."

"That's great, Magnus." Clary jumped from her seat, "Are we meeting them now?"

"They've arranged for me to host at the loft, so I thought it might not be a bad idea to get over there early and maybe talk about how this should work." 

"Yeah, sure." She smiled, "That sounds good."

"Great, let’s go," Magnus waved her forward to lead them out of the Institute, a portal waiting for them on the bottom step. "We've got a lot to get ready."

"So, how is this going to go?" Clary asked, standing awkwardly in the middle of his living space as Magnus moved tables and chairs around so that instead of couches and chairs that might be confining for one of the winged folk, there were plush looking benches-for-one with wing-rests in the seating area. They were being trusted with a privileged secret. The warlock wanted to give his guests options. 

"I reached out to Alec about the feather, and he seemed positive he knew who it belonged to. He could bring them to the loft and negotiate in person, or he could be negotiating for them if they agreed on some sort of price ahead of time." Magnus flicked his fingers and changed out the heavy wood coffee table for a beautiful glass tea table. With assorted tea items included, of course. "Not unlike when we summoned Valak for your memories."

"You mean when Alec screwed up the summoning?" Clary scoffed and threw herself into one of the remaining armchairs. "How do we know he's not going to screw up this, too?"

Magnus quickly zapped Clary's fingers when she went for a finger sandwich, "It's rude to eat before our guests, Clarissa. And you should be thinking of what to offer for that feather."

"What would you suggest?" Clary frowned, "I don't have a lot of money, and from what I can tell, most Shadowhunters don't really use it either."

"The Fairchild Estate would have a substantial sum," Magnus remarked, "so if they do want money, you could write an IOU and have your mother release the funds once she's awake."

"Is that likely? That they'll ask for money?"

Magnus shrugged, "Money, gems, favors; they could literally ask for anything."

"Then how do I know if it's a good deal?"

"There isn't another option, Clarissa," Magnus said, watching a storm brew in the redhead's eyes. "Either you pay the price to get the feather for your mother, or you don't and I have to begin looking into ways to change the potion."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Alec had long stopped needing Magnus to open his door for the Nephilim. Since he was the only one on the other side, the warlock assumed this was a matter of professional boundaries. Alec was here to negotiate with Clary and Magnus for an Angel feather and he meant to start as he would go. Magnus could appreciate that, even if he would miss his kisses.

“Alec,” Magnus greeted with an affectionate smile, welcoming him into his house. “There’s no problem is there?”

The Shadowhunter shook his head, “No problems, Magnus.”

“Wonderful, would you like refreshments?” He gestured to the table laden with tea, “Or something a little stronger?”

It was only because the warlock was so close that he caught what Alec muttered, “If you give me anything stronger, I’m going to end up drunk.”

The warlock’s heart tripped, that didn’t sound like his Alec. He’d need to keep a wary eye on the situation.

“Alec?” Biscuit frowned from her seat, “Are you here to negotiate for someone, then?”

“Not exactly,” the man said, setting his bow and quiver near one of the benches and shrugging out of his jacket to display far too much skin for Magnus’s attention span. “As part of the negotiation, you agreed to have an Omerta spell placed on you.” He frowned at the girl, “we can’t go any further without that spell.”

“Easy enough,” Magnus said, clapping his hands and spreading the magic over their small group, waiting until the glow had settled into their skin before he nodded. “We’re ready, Alexander.”

There was no warning. Not even a shimmer in the magical landscape of his apartment, but suddenly there were wings. Big brilliantly white wings that took up more space in his apartment than Magnus could have imagined. Outstretched they’d span the reach of his living room, Magnus had no doubt that they could support Alec in flight. 

Magnus suddenly understood so much better how terrifying those first Nephilim must have been. Deadly soldiers born on wings who could swing down out of nowhere on their prey. The warlock shifted in his seat, no one needed to know exactly how attractive he found his boyfriend. Not Clary at least.

There was a shiver in the air before Alec folded his wings in and a pressure Magnus hadn’t even noticed faded away.

“Sorry,” the winged folk said with a frown, “I forget about the effect.”

Clary was panting, and Magnus pulled his gaze from his magnificent boyfriend to check that she was okay, only to catch her glaring at Alec.

“It was  _ your _ feather?”

“Yeah,” Alec said as he carefully settled into the wing-friendly bench Magnus had conjured. The elbow joints coming to a rest in a comfortable position as Alec carefully arranged the very large limbs. “Sometimes I don’t get all the loose feathers when preening; it’s hard to do by myself.”

Magnus had to bite his lip before his mouth offered a promise he wasn’t sure was appropriate to make in front of Clary. If it were anyone else but Alec, whose privacy he guarded as zealously as his own, and Magnus might have offered. The chance to regularly groom the gorgeous wings of a handsome man made his fingers itch. The warlock resolved to make his boyfriend the offer just as soon as Clarissa left. 

“Did you set this up just as an excuse to spend time with Magnus?” Clary crossed her arms and tried to stare down the older, more dangerous, and taller nephilim across from her. It wasn’t working.

Alec scowled, the feathers on the upper arch of his wings puffing up in his anger- Magnus wanted to coo. “I don’t need an excuse to visit my boyfriend, Fray. What are you talking about?”

“This whole set up is a waste of time!” Clary damn near stomped her foot. “Just give me the feather!”

A shiver went down Magnus’s spine as Alec, instead of becoming furious and lashing out, relaxed, “What are you willing to pay for it?”

“What are you talking about?”

Magnus made a mental note to talk to Lucian about Clary’s attitude. He could honestly say that she was the spitting image of her mother, but if she didn’t get her act together she was going to piss off the wrong person. 

“I’m not going to just give you a feather, Fray.” Alec said, “You want one, then you can bargain for it the way everyone else has to.”

“What do you want?”

Magnus stared at the young woman on his sofa. That conversation with Lucian was rising with priority every time she opened her mouth. 

Alec took a deep breath, his wings flexing lightly as he leaned forward, “I want you to make me a promise. A magical promise that Magnus is going to bind for us. In return for freely and willingly giving you an Angel feather, you’re going to swear that you will never hide things from me again. You can request to tell me in private, but you won’t be able to lie to me, not even through omission.”

Clary stared at him, “I don’t lie to you.”

“Really?” Alec raised a brow, “I guess it doesn’t matter. Because either way, I don’t trust you. I want a magical promise.”

“And if you get this promise, you’ll offer Clary a feather?” Magnus just needed to be certain.

“Yes.”

“Alright, then.” And the bright blue glow sparked from his fingertips, “that’s certainly better than I expected. Let’s-”

“I didn’t say yes.” Clary shot her scowl at both of the men. “Alec might not trust me, but I don’t trust him either.”

Magnus blinked. He set aside his very visceral reaction to the idea that Alexander, one of the winged folk, wasn’t trustworthy. They had about as much ability to lie as the Seelie. Less, honestly, because winged folk didn’t like lying. Certainly, it explained Alec’s habit of using the truth with surgical precision. 

He took a breath and turned to Alec, “Is there anything else we could convince you to take as payment instead?”

Alec frowned, his wings hugged tightly to his body, “No.”

Magnus turned back to Clary, “Are you certain you want to reject his price? It’s really quite reasonable. Bargains for items of power like Angel feathers can get quite  _ expensive _ .”

“This is such crap,” Clary stood from the couch, “Just give me the damn feather.”

Alec towered over the entitled brat; his wings half spread in a powerfully aggressive display. “I’m not just going to just give you a feather, Fray. You don’t give me what I want, then you don’t get what you want.”

Clary smirked and flicked her hair over her shoulder, “You might not give it to me, but what about your boyfriend? Are you going to deny him a gift?”

Alec stiffened and shot the warlock a furious look from the corner of his eye. Magnus couldn’t even blame him. He was speechless in shock at Clary’s audacity and had to swallow back a mouthful of glass to cough and clear his throat.

“It wouldn’t matter, because I’d never ask.” Magnus finally said. “His body, his rules.” Even with his gaze on Clary, Magnus could see Alec relax a hair at his support. The warlock’s heart hurt that it was even in doubt. “Clary, I think it’s time for you to head back to the Institute.”

She glared, “But my mom-”

Magnus waved a hand to close the Omerta spell, “That’s the consequence of deciding you didn’t want to pay the price. Your mother stays in stasis until I can figure out a workaround.”

A shower of blue sparks rained down on them, sinking beneath their skin as the Omerta spell locked tongues. Clary didn’t even wait for a portal, the door banged against the brick in her wake as she stormed out of the loft. 

The brat.

Magnus turned to his boyfriend and stepped closer, “I hope you know that I would never do something like that to you.”

“I know you wouldn’t, Magnus,” Alec curved a hand around his cheek and pulled him up into a torturously slow kiss. “Maybe I forgot for a moment, but I trust you.” He pushed Magnus down into one of the cushy benches and dragged his own over. “I’m here because I trust you. As my boyfriend, because I love you and you should know this about me. And as the High Warlock of Brooklyn, because I believe that this fight with the Circle is only just started. And,” Alec looked down at the hands clasped in his, sunkissed skin that shimmered even without the jewelry and make-up. Angel, he loved this man. “Someone needs to know why if I get caught by the Circle I’ll need to get or-”

“No.” Magnus leaned forward, smothering his objections beneath frantic kisses and grasping hands. 

“No,” Magnus finally broke the kiss, leaning back just far enough to breathe, still so close Alec might as well have been breathing what the warlock exhaled, their heads tilted together. “There’s a, ah, spell. Catarina made it for parents. We can- ah, modify it. Tie each other together. There won’t ever be a time I can’t find you.”

“Or you?” Alec asked, fingers tightening in Magnus’s jacket. “I won’t let you go, Magnus. I won’t.” 

“Or me,” the warlock agreed, “We’ll be able to find each other, no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Alec agreed, slowly unclenching his grasp on his boyfriend. 

“I, ah, had an offer,” Magnus said, sliding off Alec’s thighs with one last heated kiss. “But it’s totally okay to say no.”

Alec raised a brow, “What is it?”

“I’d like to groom your wings?” Magnus bit his lip and hurried to continue when his boyfriend startled. “I promise I won’t keep any feathers and you can tell me what to do, but-” Magnus bit his tongue and shut his eyes, took a deep calming breath. “I love you. And I love that you love my eyes, even if I don’t understand it. And your wings, Alec, they’re beautiful and strong and um, really really hot.”

Alec burst out laughing, but the light in his eyes was precious to the warlock. And the way his wings spread out and back but without the aggressive tension they’d held facing Clarissa, made Magnus think that maybe he wasn’t as out of line as he thought. 

The Shadowhunter thought for a moment but finally nodded, “Okay, yeah, we can do that.”

“Really?” Magnus let a smile curl the edges of his lips.

Alec nodded, “Really.”

Magnus practically wiggled in his seat, he was so excited. “What do we need? Do we need anything?”

“Actually,” Alec turned back to his boyfriend, unable to resist returning the brilliant ecstatic smile Magnus offered. “There’s a cardboard box under my bed at the Institute, can you summon it?”

Magnus snorted, his hands held out in front of him. A ratty old shoebox appeared with a small shimmer of sparkles. “It takes no more effort to summon a specific thing than it would to summon dinner.”

“Good.” Alec settled the box between them, opening it to show a collection of bottles and brushes and combs. “Right, have you ever kept birds?”

“No,” the warlock frowned, “Am I going to regret that?”

“Probably not,” Alec laughed, “Okay, so, I produce some feather oil, but not enough. So what you’ll do is-” And Alec brought his wing between them and showed his boyfriend how to start at the top layer of feathers, near the elbow joint, and smooth the oil and comb down. Taking a minute to move a feather one way or another, tugging just a little to remove a loosened feather. 

“Who does the back of your wings for you?” Magnus brushed the dirt from the top layer of feathers, more gentle than Alec really needed- Nephilim wings could break bones and tear flesh if needed- but he appreciated the gesture. 

“Izzy mostly, she has more patience with fiddly stuff like this.” Alec’s sister had spent many mornings running her fingers through his feathers. He hoped she gained as much peace from it as he did. “Jace, not so much. He knows about them, of course, he’s my parabatai. But he’s never even mentioned them unless the glamor is already down.”

“Is that odd? I feel like that might be odd.”

“Jace has scars,” Alec said quietly. “They run parallel on his shoulder blades. I’ve never asked, but-”

“We can guess,” Magnus said softly.

“Yeah.”

Magnus cleared his throat, moving onto the next layer of feathers. “Where do you buy your wing oil? Do they have shops in Idris?”

“They do, actually.” Alec huffed as he settled back, unable to move onto the next wing before Magnus was done. “Really discrete shops. It’s taboo to talk about, but I’m glad the shops still exist because there’s no way I’m going to put anything made for chickens on my body.”

Magnus snorted, “I’ll have to look up recipes for wing oil. They have to exist.”

“Maybe.” Was all Alec said about it. 

-

Alec twitched his shoulders and resisted the urge to whistle. He’d never felt so relaxed. The mild ache he hadn’t even realized had pulled his shoulders tight was gone and in its constant place was a shiver that left goosebumps on his arms at the memory of Magnus’s fingers smoothing out his feathers. He honestly couldn’t wait to feel it again.

“Alec,” Clary called jogging down the hall, her lips twisted in a mockery of a smile.

“Clary, you can’t-” Alec began, assuming she was about to start arguing over the feather again when she lashed out. Her clenched fist opening to unleash her sunshine rune right in his face. 

Alec screamed, he couldn’t not. It hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. There was an agonizing burn over his eyes like something was eating away at them. He clenched them tight and tried to wait out the worst of the burn. The pain was ebbing even as Alec panted, and over the scream of his nerves and the sick twisting in his gut, Alec could feel hands tugging at his shirt. 

_ Clary. _

“If you’d just given me the damn feather,” she was huffing, hiking up his shirt, and setting her stele to skin. “None of this would have been necessary.” 

With another sudden bloom of pain, Alec could feel his wings rip through his jacket, not charmed or designed for the sudden development that burst its seams. 

And then there were hands reaching into his feathers. Not Magnus’s. Not Jace’s. Not  _ safe _ . They were reaching out to grab and tear and like hell was he going to let her get away with this.

Ignoring the sticky coppery smell leaking from his eyes and the strain of twisted limbs and aching joints, Alec braced himself against the corner beside his door and lashed out.

Clary hit the opposite wall with a crack and a scream just as loud as his. Alec wondered if he’d broken something. 

“Alec!” Jace was there, pulling at the abused shirt. He could barely feel the burn of the healing rune over the pain in his eyes and his back and his shoulders. Darkness had already taken his sight, but even his hearing was going in and out as he heard Jace’s voice shout, “Izzy! Call Magnus!”

-

Magnus had worked under grueling conditions before; threats and promises and lies like gilded chocolate had coaxed his magic from him, but never had his hands trembled the way they did now. 

His magic guided the spell he crafted. Here was the soft muscle of the inner eye, scored and gouged by heat. Carefully the warlock nurtured the tissue into softening and remembering what it looked like before. There were the surface scars and burnt skin of the surface of the eye, the skin surrounding the eye, the missing lashes. 

Magnus took a deep breath, his magic no harsher than the faintest brush of air as he numbed nerves and worked to bring healing back to flesh and muscle that might have forgotten. And when he was done with the most technical kind of magic, Jace was there to help him lean back into a chair, and Izzy wiped softly at the blood staining her brother’s face.

“His wings?” Izzy asked quietly, afraid to break the fragile peace descended on their corner of the infirmary.

_ “Will heal.”  _ Brother Zacharia nodded encouragingly. The Silent Brother offered the wrapped bundle of bloody feathers to Magnus to put away safely.  _ “By next molt there won’t even be scars.” _

“I don’t understand,” Jace whispered, “Why would Clary do something like this?”

“She attacked one of the winged folk; she attacked the Acting Head of the Institute, her commanding officer.” Izzy took a deep breath, bringing her volume back down. “She’s not going to survive this, Jace. No matter her reasons. If the Clave doesn’t kill her for it, someone in the Institute will.”

Jace slumped into a seat next to Magnus’s, “I just don’t understand, and she won’t say anything.”

_ “She’s under an Omerta spell,” _ Brother Zacharia offered as he moved back.  _ “Perhaps if you find the warlock who cast the spell, you’ll find your answers.” _

Both Lightwood siblings turned to stare at Magnus where he was carefully nursing a disgusting cup of Institute coffee. He didn’t even have the energy to summon a replacement. 

“Be very careful about the questions you ask,” Magnus finally said, “but I’ll do my best to answer.”

“What isn’t covered by the spell?” Jace asked, “Like Omerta spells cover a specific fact, right? Well, what can you tell us that wouldn’t be covered?”

Magnus snapped, ignoring the weak and sputtery sparks that his magic tried to generate, to point in Jace’s direction. “That was smart, blondie.”

“I’m smart.” 

Izzy snorted, “Occasionally.”

“Okay,” Magnus sipped at the horrible coffee and considered how the spell had been placed. “The antidote for Jocelyn’s stasis requires a rare ingredient. An Angel feather.”

Izzy narrowed her gaze at the warlock, “There’s no way you knew about Alec’s wings. He just about had a panic attack asking you on a date, there’s no way he told you about his wings, we would have known.”

Magnus agreed and explained in hesitant steps, feeling out the boundaries of what magic would let him say to explain just how out of sympathy he was for Clary.

“That bitch,” Izzy seethed on the other side of the bed, “She should be happy she’s locked up where I can’t get to her!”

“What did Alec ask for that Clary refused?” Jace interrupted, “What did he ask for?”

“It doesn’t matter!” 

“It does!”

The two were hovering aggressively, with Alec’s bed between them. Magnus worried that if they ended up throwing fists they’d do it right over their brother’s bed. 

“Don’t you understand?” Izzy hissed, “Clary had her chance at the feather, whatever Alec wanted for it, and she decided she didn’t want it on his terms. Instead she beat him, tore his clothes, and pressed her will on his body when he didn’t want it!”

“Clary probably felt like she had no choice; Alec might have asked for something-”

Jace was fast, but Izzy was faster, and she lashed out. Her fist connecting with Jace’s nose in a spray of blood, sending him stumbling back from Alec’s bedside. “Alec is your parabatai. You think Clary objected so strongly to something he suggested, then you should be looking at  _ her. _ I better not ever hear you blaming this on Alec, Jace Wayland.”

“Or what?” He spat, wiping at the blood on his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Or I’m going to dedicate myself to making sure you never get a date again.” She offered her brother a sharp smile. “I’m sure Magnus would help me.”

Magnus bit back the words curling his tongue, that he did know of several spells that might be twisted to such use. It all depended on how permanent Isabelle wanted the lesson to be. Magnus figured he was bloodthirsty enough to know that in his opinion, none of the spells were  _ permanent enough. _

-

The world was fuzzy when Alec opened his eyes. He was laying on his stomach in the Infirmary, nothing quite smelled like the Institute Infirmary, which meant he was facing that beautiful stained glass window of the Angel of Mercy. Except Alec couldn’t make it out. It was just a fog of light and dark shades and the certainty that something was there. Colors were washed out, forms were blurry around the edges, and everything past a certain point had turned into one giant indistinct blob. Alec took a deep breath and then another. 

“Alexander,  _ sayang _ , are you awake?” Magnus called softly from his bedside, and Alec could feel the distinctive touch of metal rings as the warlock ran his fingers through Alec’s hair. 

Turning his head to meet his boyfriend’s face, Alec’s breath hitched and moisture pooled and dripped freely. He couldn’t see him. Magnus, powerful magical Magnus, with his shiny shirts and his glitzy jewelry and the color everywhere; he was hazy, faded, and indistinct. It was horrible.

“Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Magnus drew a tissue across Alec’s cheeks to collect the tears. “Are you in pain?”

“I can’t- I can’t see you Magnus.” Alec choked, reaching out even though everything hurt. “I don’t- I can’t-”

“Oh, darling,” Magnus whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “We’re going to figure it out, I promise. It won’t stay like this forever, I won’t let it. Even if it takes all my magic, Alec, I’ll fix this.”

Alec just clenched his eyes tight and cried. He didn’t want to think about it yet, but in the back of his head he knew that unless Magnus could produce a miracle, his life was irreparably changed. No more hunting. No more watching. He’d be out of the running for the Institute Head position permanently this time. How could he protect his family without his eyes?

“It’s going to be okay.” Magnus held him tight, “It’s going to be okay.”

When the tears finally ran dry and the twinge in his back became an ache, Alec pulled back and let his love gently dry his eyes and tuck him back into the bed. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?”

“It was Clary, right?” Alec frowned but the skin pulled painfully around his eyes and he had to close his eyes, lean back, and let Magnus soothe him again. “I remember she was there, but I don’t remember what happened? She attacked me?”

“She unleashed a sunlight rune right in your face,” Magnus said softly, fingers combing through his hair, voice right by Alec’s ear. “She wanted-”

“A feather.” Alec took a deep breath. His back hurt from wrenched muscles and bruises. There were areas where his wings hurt like an open sore. The skin of his face was stiff and sensitive. The less said about his eyes the better. 

If he felt the pull of the feather’s magic still attached to him, he couldn’t tell. “Did she?”

“No, my love.” Magnus pressed a kiss to the skin by his eye. “Jace and Izzy caught her in the act. We collected all the feathers that could be saved, a few had to be disposed of but the rest are here, waiting until you can make a decision.”

“What happened with Clary?”

“She was taken by the Clave,” Magnus hesitated, “the odds are not in her favor.”

“Plucking is a serious crime.”

Magnus hummed in agreement, rubbing circles into Alec’s temples. The tingly cooling sensation of his magic seeping into Alec’s body, easing tension that he didn’t even know was there, was a sweet relief. “It’s a good thing she’s not a downworlder. Punishment for plucking if you’re a downworlder is still crushing.”

Alec shuddered at the thought. Crushing was a crime all it’s own, laid out under a board as the executioner placed heavier and heavier weights on the board until bones broke and organs flattened. It was a terrible way to die. Slow and horrific. Taking trophies from either side should be cause for the death sentence, but the Clave only cared about their own. The Circle had fertile ground to grow in twenty years ago and Alec was ashamed to know the ground was just as fertile now. 

“Where are Jace and Izzy?” Alec could practically feel his boyfriend’s uncertainty. “Magnus?”

“Izzy is preparing the case against Clary and Jace is, ah-”

“Jace is trying to find someone to defend her.” Alec sighed.

“Yes.”

“And you, Magnus?” Alec reached up and brought the warlock’s hands down to his face, kissing them slowly. “How are you?”

“Scared,” he whispered into Alec’s hair, “I was so scared, my love. I couldn’t leave your side for the fear you’d be gone when I got back. I couldn’t go back to life without you, Alexander. I couldn’t.”

“Magnus, come here,  _ papi _ .” Alec twisted in bed, carefully maneuvering the sling binding his wings in place and tugging his warlock onto the bed with him. It wasn’t important that his heart broke at the reminder that he probably wouldn’t ever see Magnus the way he remembered again. What mattered was that Magnus’s heart was breaking and Alec could at least hold the pieces together. “It didn’t happen. You haven’t lost me yet.”

“Not yet,” Magnus whispered into the infirmary scrubs, tightening his arms. Alec leaned back to breathe in the smell of Magnus, caramel, orchids, and the heady aroma of sandalwood. He just leaned back and thought.

If Alec ever saw Clary Fray again it would be too soon. If he ever heard her name, dealt with her case,  _ had to offer her help _ \- Alec figured he’d probably snap. Better to snap now, when he wouldn’t be able to do much damage, than later when he’d be able to swing a punch without screaming. 

“Hey Magnus?” Alec whispered.

“Yes, Alexander?” Magnus replied just as soft.

“What would you offer for an Angel feather? One willingly given?”

Magnus sat up, and Alec mourned the damage his eyes had taken because he could feel the change in magic that meant Magnus’s glamor had dropped. One more thing he’d never see again because of Fray. “What are you talking about?”

“I want her gone.” Alec said softly, “I never want to hear her name again Magnus.” He took a deep breath, ignoring the hitch and sputter in his chest. “I want you to take one of the feathers, make the antidote, cure Jocelyn, and make  _ her  _ deal with her daughter’s mess. I want it over. But I can’t- she can’t profit from this Magnus.”

“I have just the thing,” Magnus nodded slowly, pressing a kiss to Alec’s dry and cracked lips before he leaned over the bed to grab something from the side table. “I made this for you.”

He offered Alec the box, long and wide but shallow, and when the nephilim pried the lid off, the gift inside stole his breath away. He couldn’t see it clearly, but he knew the details would be just as spectacular as Magnus’s always were. Instead, he ran his fingertips lightly over the wing clips. He felt where there were small loops to hang charms if he wanted, Magnus probably already had ideas, and the padded bend where it would slide over the elbow joint of his wing and nestle close. 

More, Alec could feel just how much magic Magnus had embedded in the jewelry. He could feel it fairly pulse, it was so strong. “Magnus, this is-”

“I didn’t take Cl-her, seriously,” Magnus interrupted. “Even when she implied I had some sort of right to your body, I just thought she was young.” He shook his head, “I never want you to feel so vulnerable again. This will help.”

Alec swallowed, “How?”

“It’s spelled so that so long as you wear it, no one can touch your feathers except you.” Magnus said quietly, “not even me.” 

Alec had to blink back more tears and had to wonder if he’d ever stop crying. He carefully wiped at the moisture, “This is definitely worth a feather, probably all of them honestly.” Alec paused at the thought, “Would you be willing to make them for other winged folk?” 

What would the world look like if they didn’t have to hide? Alec couldn’t even imagine it, but he wanted to see it. 

"Perhaps,” Magnus shifted, “I wouldn’t be able to make a set as strong as yours again, not unless-”

“Unless?”

He could hear Magnus take a deep breath, “Not unless your child had wings. I would bleed my soul empty of magic to protect such an innocent piece of you.”

Alec blinked widely, stunned speechless. He didn’t turn away when Magnus cupped his face, and he didn’t turn away when his love pressed a soft and aching kiss to his lips. There were hard days ahead, but that- that was a future worth looking for.

“ _ Our child,”  _ Alec said against the press of his boyfriend’s skin. The picture of a little boy with golden eyes and perfect wings in his mind’s eye. A life where the Shadow World might still hide from the Mundane, but a winged folk need not fear for their feathers. “Maybe- maybe someday." 

"Someday,” the warlock choked, leaning in for another kiss as Alec's eyes grew heavy. Someday sounded wonderful. 

  
  



End file.
